


Trials for Love

by MFU



Series: Miria X 049 [3]
Category: SCP - Containment Breach, SCP Foundation
Genre: Abandonment, Bondage, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Forgotten Ones, Fuck Or Die, Gaslighting, Possessive Behavior, Revenge, Rough Kissing, Sad and Happy, Yandere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:41:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29065233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MFU/pseuds/MFU
Relationships: SCP-049 (SCP Foundation)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Miria X 049 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2126520
Comments: 20
Kudos: 16





	1. Revelations

Florice could feel his wife's broken body gently bumping against his chest as he walked. Nothing but hills as far as the eyes could see. Going back to that old place he had found was an impossibility, and yet Florice had been walking for miles. Cursing gently under his breath with every twist and pop his ankle suffered; the stones hiding beneath the rising grass attacking his limbs. The sun overhead just rising again, giving him a friend within the silence.

He breathed out ragged, feeling exhaustion creeping over his body as he peeled back the robes he had placed over Miria. Still asleep, her parted lips looked cracked and her forehead was crinkled in a stressful restless sleep. He placed his hand over the back of her head, keeping her still as he adjusted her into a better held position in his arms.

So many voices ran through his mind...

"Tut, tut, 049... how could you ever think ANYONE, ANYONE AT ALL, would ever love you. Funny, you had to kidnap and force one of our top researchers to live with you." That was what an agent had said to him when he was captured. "You know, Miria was the only scientist here able to stand you. By God... not even half the SCP's wanted anything to do with you. And yet, you have to come along and take some poor woman's life away, all to feel loved. You should be ashamed of yourself."

049 paused at the thought, gently concealing Miria again as he walked. The thoughts stirring inside. 'You are a masked monster, I could never love you.' That was what the female in his arms had said to him from day one, and yet he had tried with every fibre in his body to make her love him.

049, or Florice, could admit his techniques were... selfish, and he done things he should not have, but... letting Miria go hurt too much. 'I hate you...' she had stuttered out when he had forced himself upon her. But, 049 had seen it happen so often; scientists outside of his chamber window that groped and cornered their females, making said female blush and pull them in for a kiss. But when 049 tried to do so, Miria always ran or cried. Why...?

He tried to ignore the solid anxiety eating his heartbeat, and how his legs trembled, but... maybe she still did see him as a monster. 

With a long way to go, 049 took rest beneath a big tree. Miria sat between his legs, still unconscious. 049 watching the sun slowly rising.

"Nnnngh-"

049 looked down in an instant, watching Miria slowly set herself up and rub her eyes to look around. "...Where..." She peeked over her shoulder, instantly panicking and trying to run; only to have big arms lock around her waist and keep her still. She did not speak, only sobbed loudly in fear. But, when she heard the soft sound of sobbing behind herself- she stopped.

Fear still silenced her, but Miria turned slowly to witness her very own 'husband' sobbing. Never before had she truly seen such a sight, and her eyes were transfixed to him. "...Florice...?" 

"I'm sorry..." he choked out, quickly rubbing his eyes and clearing his throat. "Stand up, this instant!" He bellowed, but even then his voice was croaky and unsure. Miria stood, not feeling as threatened. "We are going, this instant!"

He grabbed her wrist hard, dragging her along through the open field. "Where are we going?" "Home. To find a new home!" He snapped back. "Florice..." Miria eyed him sneakily, "you... don't have to keep dragging me. I... I will walk next to you." 

049 looked shocked, analysing the small smile Miria gave him. "Here..." Miria held her hand out, watching him slowly take it. "Mi...ria..." he sounded ready to cry again, and he was.

Breaking down in the midst of this open desolate field, falling to his knees whilst holding her hands tight. Miria followed him to the floor, both crouching the tall grass. Small dandelion seeds floating off around them both.

"Why..." 049 breathed hard, "why did you not come to see me?" "I... why would I?" 049 looked shocked. "Because I love you! I love you, Miria... and it hurt me... that you... you just...-" he couldn't even finish. "Merde... look at me. What a ghastly sight for heavenly eyes."

"You aren't mad at me?" Miria asked lowly. "I am... but...the pain I feel overweighs that." Miria looked down. 'Was he trying to make her feel guilty? Is this manipulation?' But his eyes said otherwise: full of tears and shaking hands.

"Florice..." she smiled kindly at him, "you hurt me... you... took everything from me. You expected me to be something I was not, to please you. You ignored me when I tried to ask you why... why you done those things to me. So... do not expect me to pity you now." 049 hung his head low, ashamed and broken. 

She brushed a strand of curly black locks from his moist cheeks, asking: "Is the hurt worth it?" "P-Pardon?" 049 stuttered, looking at her hopelessly. "All of this... you constantly having to capture me. You constantly cooking for, looking after, bedding me- is it worth these tears?" 

"Yes!" 049 grabbed her desperately. "You are worth everything! You, Miria... my love... you could stab me, you could break my heart a thousand times, and I will never not love you." He pulled her hands to his heart, grasping both in his larger ones, before kneeling and sobbing openly against her tiny fists. 

"You capture me when its an inconvenience to you. You've walked for... goodness knows how long..." Miria looked around nervously at the open fields. "I... I have realised, Florice, my fate is with you."

049 gasped a little, looking up. "You've given me all you can... you.. never lied about future freedoms when we wed. Just... let me be myself, Florice. That is all I ask... and I will be yours again." 049 suddenly hugged her tightly, squeezing her with need. "I promise... anything you desire... I promise!" "Then promise me this:" Miria shot him a sharp look, "No more... rope... torture... and... I know I must hide from others now, to keep you safe, but please... let me go outside?" 

049 ran his hand through her locks. "I promise to you, it shall be as so."


	2. A broken person

"There she is..."

The lights of the foundation were bright and dazzling, but the creature walking through the halls was the opposite. Eyes dark, full of hatred, dread, desperation- eyes that cannot decide who was taken for granted. Too many times had it came to the same thing, her whole life living as if her Father was her hero. 

Head lowering as she hit the button to send the elevator up to her dorm, Isabeau watched the door close to reveal her reflection in the murky silver visage. Regret- that was all she felt. Slowly placing her hand against the steel surface. Visions of her head being tipped back by force, hands pulling her hair and forcing lies down her throat. Those eyes that no longer shined mocking her in the reflection, asking her if it was her or her Mother taken for granted. Both had been abused, Miria moreso, but this bitter and vile feeling inside of Isabeau, growing, was dark.

These invisible chains that kept her appearing sane, once undone would show the rage she had been given by the man she called Father. Swallowing the lump in her throat, her and her Papa... so many happy memoirs, and it felt like the happy-go-lucky world around herself could never step inside and understand the rage inside of her. Just an insane woman, just a hateful person, just someone that needs healing- she banged her fist on the reflection. 

'Maybe they should open their eyes and look under the words of temptation...' Those words her monster Father had spoken, buttering up the foundation, all whilst plotting to ruin her Mother's life, and create something disgusting. To create a real monster, a child born of sin, a child born to lose everything. Or at least, Isabeau felt that way.

With the papers in hand, she had just demanded conformation to be trained alongside the guards in self defence. But it was easy for anyone to see that the new sheen in her eyes was vengeance. A shine of madness, of lost hope- of accepting how fragile and powerless she really is. 

"There she is..."

Almost every other scientist that saw her walk the halls would whisper. Like a bad omen, Isabeau was treated. Walking with little emotion on her face as she hid her rage. None would guess the look on her face hid such obscenities; such rage for the people here who stood by and were fooled by her Father's words. All of them- sheep. The disgust in her stomach for them was unnatural, but something inside tempted her towards that hatred. Her will had vanished and replaced itself with the pure need to torture her own Father as Isabeau felt she had been tortured. 

Stepping into her dorm room, she shut the door behind herself and rest her forehead against the surface; watching her arms dangle lifelessly. Her mind was already torturing her, and it had barely been a second alone. 'Why did you let him take your Mama?' Isabeau felt tears pricking her eyes. 'Show them the rage you were given.' 

Gently placing the papers on the side of her desk, Isabeau walked calmly to the kitchen draw and pulled out a pair of sharp scissors. Examining them coldly, not even showing emotion for her own reflection in the blade. Running her hand through her long locks in stress, walking to the bathroom.

Now the visions came: her willpower draining, like a game. Two hours sleep a day, eyes dark and skin sickly pale. But, unlike everyone else, this in-between reality and fiction mindset kept her awake. Tilting her head towards the bathroom mirror and setting herself before it. Setting the scissors down, blinking rapidly as she ran her hands all over her face and scalp, trying to regain normality. 

Her Father said he loved her. Her Father wished her well. Her Father birthed a child born of rape and manipulation. She was merely an object to him. A padlock for his wife to wear around her neck.

Isabeau felt her heart thud in her throat, body full of disgust as she held herself for a moment and wept lowly. Gritting her teeth, sniffling as the rage built- grabbing the scissors and her hair. Screaming rage at the mirror, cutting her hair like a maniac, not even watching the tufts of soft locks fall into the sink below. 

Done; she set the scissors down. Admiring her new style, just an average short pixie cut. But, at least where her hair had turned white from trauma, it matched now. Before, her scalp had turned the hair there white- but the rest of her hair remained darker. It looked nicer now, and- she could visibly see the scar which had to be stitched on the side of her head... where her Father had pushed her and turned on her in favour of his wife. A single moment in her life, despite all she had known, where her Father truly proved his threat.

He would kill his child for his wife. Isabeau was nothing to him, but a cause for Miria to stay. 

And, the first thing Isabeau had seen after her Father pushed her into unconsciousness was a doctor staring back; surgical tools in his hands. Isabeau refused the trauma, eyes wide and gripping the seat as her wound was stitched. She refused to fall into this slavery of being afraid of the small reminders, the price she paid for being 049's daughter. 'Her fucking nightmare,' she called it. A psychosis where you cannot fight, hate does not need to be justified, the enemy is those who tell you how to feel. It was her against the world.

Walking back out of the bathroom, breathing hard to calm down. Isabeau walked to her bedside table and eyed the lavender plant sat there. Pulling out one single stem, and crushing it in her palm- not even watching the petals fall to the floor.

"I am coming for you, Father."


	3. Lifted veil

"Look, Florice!" Miria pointed happily to the lights ahead of them both. Florice seemed unsure, looking at the small village a few miles ahead of himself, frowning at Miria acting all excited. "Please! Can we go?" He frowned, stepping closer to her. "But...-" he had no idea how to say it.

'Will you run away?' No, too abrupt. 'I do not trust you.' Too hurtful. He cleared his throat. "Do we need to go there?" 

Miria grinned at him. "C'mon... our new home is not too far away. I heard music here last night; it was so loud! Please can we check it out?" Florice sighed: "fine, but please... please don't do anything silly."

With a blush and smile, Miria took her husbands hand and began dragging him ahead. "Miria, my love- please slow down!" But she could not, overly excited as they set foot on some small village in the mountains. 

People merely smiled at them, wearing cotton clothing that looked pre-dated. All without dyed hair, or make-up, or anything artificial really. They looked stuck in the past, cobblestone streets with warm looking lanterns hanging overhead. Miria kept hold of an uncertain and shy Florice, dragging him to where she heard the merry tune of a violin play. Noticing many people welcome her with a grin, all dancing happily as couples.

Of course Miria motioned to Florice to dance, who shook his head. Florice had not properly danced since well... the 1600's, his adventures amongst many villages led to strange dances and celebrations. But, the light reflecting from his lovers eyes was enchanting enough for himself to be pulled into a dance. His ego quickly melting away, as he watched Miria dance around him; her eyes locked into his, the skin around her bright forest hues crinkling as she smiled widely.

Linking arms and dancing in a circle, clapping her hands and spinning around with her husband. His eyes with a playful challenging look to them, accepting this dance as he spun her faster. Almost everyone there clapping solely for the man spinning his wife around, before Miria clumsily fell into his chest.

Both panting, grinning at each other breathlessly. Florice tucked a piece of stray hair from his wife's face, before he allowed her to straighten her posture. Everyone else quickly resuming their own dances, as Miria dragged her husband to the closest food stall. Eyeing some delicious looking treat on a stick.

"Miria... no..." Florice warned, not liking the idea of her eating unhealthy foods or sugar at all. But the kind plump gentleman behind the stall handed her one freely, offering no charge for the happy maiden. 

Both walking side by side, Miria sucked loudly on this candy she had been given; true happiness evident on her features for the first time. Florice seemed out of place, walking beside her in silence. The night air dark, but illuminated by a big full moon.

Miria had always loved the moon, moonflowers being her favourite flower too. Stopping in her tracks, she stared up at giant beautiful sight. Feeling this swell in her gut, like she had been blind all along. She had the view from the window, of the old home, but she had never truly been able to see freely. She had never thought about how blind she had been, until this freedom here and now. 

Looking to her right, to see Florice smiling up at the moon; the light illuminating every scar and gentle look in his eyes. And, when he caught her staring, he did not tease or ridicule her- he simply offered her his hand. Not feeling nervous, this time, she took his palm in hers. 

Neither spoke, just stared at each other. Her chest heaving a bit, his doing the same. 

"Miria-"  
"Florice-"

They chuckled after speaking at the same time. His lips upturning into a warm smile, hand gliding through her hair again. Watching his wife shine in the moonlight, and not feel anxious... not feeling rage, or lost. A lifetime of feeling like a monster, a lifetime of trying to do good- but only managing to gain fear and hatred. This dark cloud over him had shifted, and he crouched to his wife's level, smiling at her, before his arms snaked around her waist- pulling her up into the air and spinning her as she tried to call out his name to stop.

"Florice!-"

He deflated accidentally, both falling into the tall grass that hid them well. Miria pouted, looking up at Florice hovering over her. He pulled the candy from her mouth, laughing as he realised she had been sucking on the stick- savouring the taste of the sweets she had greedily devoured. Throwing it away, and gently leaning closer to her with content half-lidded hues.

At first, Miria turned her head on instinct, but turned to face Florice when she noticed him patiently waiting for her consent to kiss. Florice could only play with her hair again, pulling it from her face, seeing his wife and feeling.... happy. This veil finally lifting from his vision, hers too.

Gasping softly in the open night air as he felt Miria's small hands rush through his dark locks. Through Hell and back both had been. So many years a captive, and finally Miria felt like she finally understand that Florice loved her. It still felt wrong, but she was past the point of caring. Before her, was a man who adored her. She was fated to be here, and she had only just realised it.

Her lips eagerly meeting his, running her hands down his back and clinging to him gently. Releasing the kiss, to see Florice chuckle a few times and smile at her. Pulling Miria up, the two just stared again for the longest time. 

"Florice..."

"Yes?"

Miria did not hesitate. "I love you." 

Florice could feel his heart beating, wanting to rush and hug her, but feeling so shocked and far too happy to even move at this point. "Do you love me?" She asked.

"Oh my, you know I love you more then anything that has ever existed."

Happy tears began falling down her cheeks. "Florice," she hiccupped, "I am so sorry... I kept running... and I kept hurting you."

"No," he grabbed her hands in his, "I am sorry. I ruined your life..."

"No... you did not. I was just seeing it wrong... I..." she hesitated this time, "I wanted to tell you this... for so long." Florice waited patiently, urging her to go on with a loving sigh and his thumb caressing her palm. "In... that foundation, in a world of hatred and nothingness. When I would come see you, I... all that time, I could never admit that your affections pleased me... just a bit. I... am not sure if this is being said because of everything that happened, but I always appreciated seeing you."

"Miria... I-" she cut him off. "If you had never kidnapped me. If you had never hurt me, taken me from my family and life... I think I could have loved you back then."

Florice sunk into himself, willing himself not to cry. "I am so sorry... my little Miria," but his voice choked up at the end. A small gasp leaving his lips as she took his hand. "But, suddenly I can see... I do love you, Florice. And, you're right," she chuckled, "it has taken me this long to see. But, now I do, we have so much more time together ahead of ourselves."

"You forgive me?" He asked, hopeful. 

"No..." he lowered his head, "but I do love you." His gaze met hers again, glimmering. "I love you as a friend, a father, a lover... my everything, you have been."

Florice could not control himself, lunging at her gently. Pushing her onto her back, both sharing a passionate kiss as Miria let him slowly remove her clothing. He then followed with his own.

Laughing as the night air brushed upon their nudity, chilling them. Both sitting up to peek around the tall grass, just to make sure- before their loud laughs could be heard amongst the stars, bodies pressed against each other as their longing deep kisses concealed all sounds of pleasure. 

~~~~

"Are you alright, my love?" Florice wrapped an arm around Miria's waist, who instantly rest her head against him. Walking side by side back to the small cottage that Florice had once again managed to find. Setting foot inside, Florice locked the door, scooping Miria up who let out a surprised squeak. 

"Eek- Florice!" She giggled, being taken to the bedroom.

Miria quickly scurried beneath the bright bed covers, a far cry from the mundane ones she used to sleep in at the old dull place. Wiggling a bit as Florice climbed into his side of the bed, tugging off his attire and leaving himself in his undergarments, quickly relaxing as Miria snuggled into his chest.

His arm acting like a pillow for her as he held her tight, propping himself up a little to admire her. Rubbing his hand up and down her back, watching morning come through the big open window- but both had no sleep. Just resting together, smiling as listening to one another breathe gently. 

"I never want this to end..." Miria cooed.

"It... does not have to.... You remember my serum?" Miria shifted, looking up at him. "You could live forever, and we can spend every day as we have today."

Miria had discomfort on her face, but quickly smiled. Choosing not to answer, as she snuggled back against him.

Florice placed a small kiss against her temple, before ensuring the covers were over her body entirely, resting beside her freely.

"I love you, Miria..."

"I love you too... truly."


	4. Purple

"Oh, the water is boiling..." Miria pointed carelessly to the overflowing hob. "Ah, but a moment- my love." Florice quickly placed the knife he had been holding back down on the chopping board, hurrying to turn the broth he was making to a low simmer. "Smells so good..." Miria whined, holding her rumbling stomach. 

"Yes, potato and leek soup. Harvested from the local village. Such lovely people, really." Florice hummed in satisfaction as he thought about how quickly the gentle locals had accepted him. They barely even questioned his story. A former doctor and his wife retiring early in the old home by the hill- nobody even battered an eyelid. 

Miria smiled, rubbing her palms together between her thighs as a cold chill rushed her. "Oh... Florice, when do you think we can fix the hole in the roof? I am so cold!" Florice could practically hear her teeth chattering. "Soon," he crouched at her side, caressing her hair, "and there is no 'we;' I told you long ago that you are to leave all the stress life throws at us, to me." Miria rolled her eyes, laughing. "What did I do to get such a doting husband, huh?"

"Do we really have to go over this again?" Miria yelped when he suddenly picked her up, admiring her in his arms. "You are the most wonderful woman on earth. It is I who is the undeserving and lucky one. You needn't be anything but yourself to please me."

Breath shallow, Miria felt her smile disappear into a frown for one single moment. A memory of herself; arms stretched out, a rusty chain around her ankle. Florice measuring her body, holding many fabrics against her skin. "My dear..." her shaking hues would meet his in a silent response. "You always did like purple, yes?" 

And he would make so many purple things for her. Bows, hair pins, dresses- 

When Miria had arrived at the foundation, rescued, it was a purple blanket they had draped over her body. She walked the halls of the foundation, passing the wall where her ID photo once hung nicely. The space there was empty as she passed, but Miria did not want to see her old self anyway. She was not the same person.

Miria had stood still, her arms stretched out as scientists examined her body. Running strange hand-held machines all over her skin, testing for strange concoctions 049 might have placed inside of her. And then, the purple blanket was placed back over her. She had hidden behind it whilst walking past so many old colleagues, all of them aged and so different from how she remembered. 

There was the doctor she constantly had to report daily to. His once brown hair now greyed, his eyes covered in wrinkles. There was the cleaner, a young girl of around twenty, now a Mother of three. Then, there was Miria.

Hair the same, not many wrinkles, body frail and pitiful- there was no pride inside of her at all... unlike they all had. Her eyes hollow and devoid of emotion, her hands constantly tucked into her pockets or resting against her heart in a nervous stance. And even then, she had been holding onto something purple.

Back to the moment, Miria regained her smile. Florice said she needn't be anyone but herself, to impress him... and yet, had he not changed her so much? Shouldn't she be like everyone else?

"Florcie?" Miria weakly called, whimpering when he set her back in her seat. He hummed in response, focusing on the soup. "Can I ask you something, please?"

Florice turned to see his wife, all nervous. "Sure, my darling, proceed."

"Well... you see, you... tell me that you've always loved me... and-" "I have, yes." Miria swallowed thickly, trying to seem braver then she really felt right now. "W-well... why do... is there any chance I could get to wear something a little more... modern? It's just that... if you love me, shouldn't I get to choose my own outfit?"

Florice kept his back turned on Miria, twiddling the knife in his grasp and eyeing his own reflection in the blade as he chose his words carefully. "You know that will prove difficult for me, my love..." 

"I... I know, sorry. But, look how far we've come. I won't run away if you... go to the village, or anywhere. I just..." she awkwardly twiddled her hair for a moment, smiling, "I really want to wear some trousers."

"But Miria," he placed the knife down, facing her, "women, real women, only wear dresses. Blast all of this sinful 'modern' thinking to Hell, my dear. I know what is best for you, and what is best- is my way." 

Miria looked down, sighing. "Come now... I shall fetch you your supper." He placed his hand beneath her chin, caressing her features until she looked up at him with a gentle smile. "There, that's better..." he cooed.

"Maybe I could go there myself..." Miria spoke suddenly. "You know, back in the foundation, I used to work with SCP-076 for a bit... I even helped organise the, now what was it called... alpha? No... Something... something..." Miria could not quite recall, but she knew she had worked with one of the most dangerous keter SCP's at some point in her life- before she was assigned to 049, that is... who was... far more dangerous.

"076? You mean the brother of Cain? Well, I never knew such a thing, Miria." Miria beamed, leaning back a little as Florice placed a bowl of hot vegetable soup before her. "Care to tell?" He smirked, sitting opposite.

Miria's forest hues went to his fingers that steadily tapped a rhythm on the table. Her eyes met her husbands, searching for clues- but she was only met with a patient unreadable smirk. "Well... Able... or... 'A-B-E-L,' can't remember how it was spelt..." she chuckled nervously, avoiding eye contact. "He was this very strong man... boy... person.... and every time he woke up, he just raged. With some time, he got invited to do some work for the foundation- lots of killing... I... did not exactly agree with it, but... I never really got a say." Miria focused on her lap, nervous. "But, all I am saying is... I was a foundation worker, I worked with a keter once, and... going outside... it is not dangerous! N-Not for me... I am experienced!" She tried to sound brave, voice crackling. 

Florice hummed, a glimmer in his amber hues as he straightened his posture with a deep sigh. "Mira, Miria... my sweet little Miria..."

"How long ago did you work with this SCP, hmm?" Miria frowned. "I... it was such a long time ago. I can't even remember... it was before... 'us.'" Florice chuckled: "You say 'us' as if we were never truly together." Miria felt a cold sweat forming. Her fingers fumbling as she tried to remember dates. 

"You see... we were always meant to be together, Miria. How else would you have stayed with me so long?" Miria felt her mind racing, desperately trying to find the answer. "No, you stayed willingly. And though you have always tried to harm me, to put me down... to belittle and abuse me... I have always stayed with you, Miria. Because you need me, don't you?"

He got up, and Miria bit her lip. "You have always needed me. I am the only 'monster' you can control. You can't even control yourself; without me, you would never have had such a wonderful daughter, a wonderful life- am I right, dear?" His body behind her, fingers slowly digging into her shoulders. 

"I tried so hard to make you realise all you have..." he whispered, "and yet, you kept running away and then running back to me. Perhaps one day, I might be able to understand what happens in your mind, Miria... but, even if you are... mentally distorted... I will always welcome you back with open arms into my heart... not that you will ever want to leave, yes?" 

"November 1999!"

Florice was just about to kiss Miria on the cheek, startled when she yelled out. He circled her front, folding his arms and looking down at her with one brow raised; lips pursed into a thin line. "November... I... that is when I left the 076 line. I was... they said they were finalizing the project because Able was too difficult to control."

049 hummed, pulling the nearest chair behind himself to sit beside Miria; his hand smoothing hers. "It is quite alright, darling... you were... too weak, too vulnerable, to work there..." Miria went to speak, hushed quickly. "Only I can keep you safe. Only I, in this cruel unfeeling world, will not put your life in danger. Only I appreciate you, so."

"Yes, but..." Miria explored his eyes, looking away for a moment. "I still worked there," Florice hid his smirk when he listened to her small sob, "I can survive alone, I can!" 

"They stopped the experiment, perhaps, because you were too fragile."

"That is not true, Florice!"

He hugged her quickly, feeling her return the hug, "Now, you might begin to realise why I do not let you leave my side..."

Miria did not jump or jolt when his hand stroked her hair. "Hush... you are perfect to me." Miria pulled back, sniffling a little as he used his thumb to wipe away a few tears. "But... what shall we do about Isabeau? What about the others searching?"

"My dear... I know not what you speak..."

"We... we were at the foundation, and... you captured me again, and...-"

"No, dearest Miria... you have always followed me willingly. Isabeau was happiest seeing her parents together, and would never interrupt such joy, and the foundation are well aware of my love for you."

So... did that mean nobody was searching? Wait, why would they search if she went willingly? Her mind was spinning.

"Come, finish your supper... dearest Miria..." Miria nodded, shakily taking the spoon and humming in satisfaction from the taste. "How is it?" Florice asked gently. "Perfect," she cooed, "just like you..."

Florice blushed, tidying away the plates and dishes to take Miria and himself to the worn but warm couch. Setting her there in a knitted purple blanket, sighing and admiring her. She gently, and willingly, clung to his arm; wrapping a bit of the blanket over his body as the two looked to the roof.

A crackle of lightning followed a deep booming thunder overhead; the sound of rain leaking through the roof following quickly. Both just looking at each other with an awkward look, knowing the house was falling apart, before bursting into laughter. Head on his shoulder, Miria enjoyed just listening to the storm together with her husband, before she shuddered. 

His hand gently rubbing her upper thigh, leaving her breathless for a moment. Fear and anxiety mixing with confusion, regret... lust. Miria shifted, uncomfortable when he glided his finger upwards towards her private areas. "Florice-"

His hand instantly retreated, and he stared patiently down at her. "I... don't want that..." she looked away in shame.

Florice grasped her chin gently, looking at her with devotion. "Then you shall not have that."

"But... so many times you..." so many times had he just taken her forcefully. "Ah, sorry... My love... If I could take those things back..." He coughed awkwardly, attempting to smile at Miria who looked at her feet peeking out from the blanket. "Do you... Not believe in me?"

Miria said nothing. The loud crash of thunder accompanied Florice as he rose from the seat, standing in front of his wife and offering his hand. Miria looked confused, but, entranced by the lightning shining through the windows behind her husband, she shyly took his hand.

And there, illuminated by the strikes of gold flashing between the lashing rain and dark clouds, the two waltzed in the large room. Hand in hand, to the sound of the violent storm, eyes locked on one another. Miria wondered one last thing:

'How did I ever even think of resisting him?'


	5. Puppet

Isabeau puffed and panted, hurrying back to her dorm with teary eyes. She was certainly not cut out for this hard work, this training. Today, someone had pulled her hair in the training session. Nothing malicious, just practise fighting, But, the stinging in her scalp could not match the pain of wondering how often her own Father had hurt her Mother.

Shutting the door to her dorm, hearing the sound of laughter outside; sliding down it and sobbing. She did not belong here, not with these people- they were doing her a kindness by letting her stay, by indulging in the fact she wanted to save her Mother. She had nothing special to offer the foundation, and yet they let her stay.

Walking around like a puppet, on display for all these bastards to see. Cuddling herself tight, Isabeau thought for a moment. She could recall a time it had been her Mother's birthday. So proud, she must have been only seven, she waltzed up to her Mama with a makeshift gift. "Mama, can we spend your birthday together?"

Isabeau felt her body shaking, sobbing silently against the floor of her dorm as she remembered what Miria said to her. "No. I would rather be alone."

Do you know how it feels? Papa would tell Mama to tell Isabeau she loved her. Miria told Isabeau she loved her so little, and when she did manage to say it to her daughter, Miria treated Isabeau like she was not even there. Walking past her with those deadpan eyes and small whimpering noises.

Of course, Isabeau only understood why this all happened now... but, do you know how much it hurts Isabeau to see everyone around herself being loved, whilst she is sobbing on the floor? Isabeau remained on the floor, thinking.

She regret everything in her life. She regret making friends, people that could never understand this pain. She regret thinking her ex-boyfriend loved her, only to never see him again. She was scared of being thrown away by everyone she has come to know, if she says how she feels. She was imperfect, she was scarred, she was alone- they had people, they had friends, they had a family. Everyone around her smiling warmly at Isabeau, but their kindness disgusted her. 

She was just a puppet on stage, being adored by masses of people hiding behind masks. Their love and support so fake. Everything about them so inhumane, pretending they understood how she felt. Pretending to help, pretending to love her, pretending to love each other. Isabeau used her fist to prop herself up, grunting as she forced her bruised body to stand. 

Black streaks of makeup running down her cheeks, not even bothering to fix her face, she stormed the halls of the foundation and head straight for the head of command office. Bursting through the door, she interrupted a conversation between two soldiers. They looked at Isabeau, but continued speaking.

"Hello Isabeau... anyway... I told my wife to stop going out to town. I much prefer knowing where my wife is, and having her waiting at home for me." Isabeau clenched her fists, not even bothering to force a smile as the soldier made his way to her. "Ah, look who strolled in for a visit. What can I do for you?" He took a seat on the edge of the nearest desk, sipping on some strong smelling coffee.

"I want to go out there." 

The man paused before laughing. "We have been over this, Isabeau. There is too many risks. We are doing all we can to track your...- 049 down. When the time is right, we will head out."

"Useless..." Isabeau shook, before exploding. "ABSOLUTELY FUCKING USELESS." Her arm swiped across the desk, sending everything flying. 

"Izzy... I understand how you feel... but-"

"No you fucking don't. Unless you have been fucked by an SCP on repeat, don't you fucking try that shit with me."

The soldier rolled his eyes, not at all bothered, focusing on his phone as it alerted him to a text. "Oh? Is that your wife, huh?" 

"Yeah," he said calmly, "she's just being stroppy. Probably her lady days, ha."

Isabeau shot him the coldest look, breathing hard before talking. "Or maybe she feels fucking disgusted to be trapped in a home with a pig like you returning to her every night. You are not any better then..."

Her voice trailed, harsh words contrasting with the fear the image of 049 bought to her. Hurrying out of the room, enough was enough. She refused to beg for help, walking to the armoury without shame and collecting the items she used to train with before making way back to her room. 

The soft voice of a few friends she had made were just behind her, a gentle conversation of some kind. "Oh, Izzy!" Isabeau turned to face them, emotionless. "Going somewhere?" One laughed kindly. "Yeah, I am." 

Another coughed awkwardly, faking a laugh that sent a chill of pure rage down Isabeau's spine. "A-Anyways... things have been super rough for me lately. C-Can we get back to that subject, please?" Isabeau gripped her equipment a little tighter, swallowing thickly as her friends began some kind of conversation about their hardships.

Isabeau felt frozen to the spot, just staring at them with this emotionless daze. There was literally black streaking tears rushing down Isabeaus face, equipment to kill in her hands, and these people just ignored it entirely. 'Why can't you fucking hear me crying?' Isabeau thought, before looking at her feet and laughing insanely.

"What... is so funny?" One asked her. "Nothing... I'm just... on fucking display for all you assholes to see, and... and what?" Isabeau shook her head in disbelief. The only thing seeming true in her life right now was her Mother, and that was someone who had broken her heart far too many times to be forgiven. 

"I would rather die, then spend another second in this fake fucking bullshit present here right now." Isabeau said suddenly, earning an audible gasp from the others. Walking away, she clenched her equipment tighter as their voices could still be heard. 'Yeah, well, it was to be expected really. With everything that happened to her, Izzy... she was never going to be normal, right?' What was normal, huh? Isabeau scoffed; so you pretend to like her, put her on display, bleed her dry of her sanity, force her to listen to your sob story, and then just go ahead and act like Isabeau is some insane creature that deserves to be chucked away?

Locking the door to her dorm behind herself, Isabeau checked over her equipment. The hidden gun in her waterproof boots, sneakily hidden as she walked to her dorm. She, ready to go, exit her room and began making way to the exit where she would check out indefinitely. 

She passed those friends, never even flinching when they collided shoulders with her, treating her like garbage for being... herself. She passed the upper class scientists, never greeting them like everyone else did- she would not grovel at their feet like everyone else. Slamming the key to her room on the counter, the woman called for Isabeau to come back, but Isabeau was already walking out. 

It took a car journey to get here, but Isabeau did not care. If she stayed, she would only be thrown away like garbage by people who seemed nice on the outside- but were pretentious and dismissive inside. The true evil in this world, she finally felt she saw; the people behind the mask.

The soldier refusing to help a vulnerable young woman. The friends who were just as quick to call her crazy the second she spoke her mind. The man she called Father, fooling everyone with polite manners. The foundation itself was a lie; secure, contain, protect- they done none of those things, and Isabeau was tired of being lied to.

The one person who had never lied, was Miria... the one person who treated her terribly, was Miria... 

Isabeau had come to hate it; lies... but the only piece of truth left in her life was saving her Mother.

Feet bruised, every step painful and opening wounds between her toes. Isabeau looked up at the rain that had just began hailing down upon her, silently letting it wash the remains of her makeup from her face. It felt so hard saying how she felt, but she was alone now; she did not have to. Her hand caressing the gun she had stolen, knowing the foundation would now treat her like a criminal, harsh words if she did not comply to their fake and pretend agenda- just like everyone in her life. A small smile on her lips as she admired the weapon, the only thing she could feel; the comfort in killing her Father.


	6. Longing

Florice breathed hard, his arms either side of Miria's body. She had this pleasant blush on her face as she tried to steady her breathing. He leant down, kissing her passionately before collapsing beside her. Both staring at the ceiling silently, listening to the rain drizzle into the roof overhead.

Florice peaked at Miria, who was looking sleepy already. Smiling as he shuffled some of the covers over her, keeping her warm as he stepped out from the room to splash some cool water against his face, coming face to face with his reflection. Simply staring.

He had a doting wife, he had all he could wish for, and he still was not happy. His reflection bringing shaky breaths as he focused on his eyes. Miria was forced to look into these inhumane amber hues daily, and she never complained. She treated him with kindness, when the foundation had kept his body in chains. The world despised him, and then there was Miria.

The dark haired male hummed for a moment, inspecting his features in the mirror. He was such a dark thing, miserable even, and Miria was so serene and beautiful. His hand went over his beating heart, thinking of all the two had been through. 

Florice did not want to live by a script. He did not want a storybook life, if it meant Miria could not be in it. He would happily re-live the pain he felt when Miria had lost her second child, and how he had balanced caring for Isabeau as well as making sure the love of his life did not die. Just the thought itself was too much to deal with.

Walking around the house, he listened to the soft rumble of thunder overhead and stepped towards his medical bag on the side. He had not used it in so long, and decided to take a peek. Hands intently searching around, pulling out papers upon the dozen for his plans for an eternal bride. Sighing when he thought about how long it could take Miria to trust him again, so he could continue his plans to make her eternal. But his hand hit something else...

Soft, squishy, he pulled it out. Pale blue in colour, a cute stitched bunny face on the top- his makeshift baby rattle for Isabeau. 

The memory of his hand colliding with his own daughter, the sound her body made when it hit the floor; how he completely ignored her and took Miria from the foundation. Florice breathed even harder, eyes slowly looking outside to the storm. His face was so still, unreadable almost, but inside he felt panic. Regret, loathing, fear. 

He hurt his little girl. He was blinded by the need to over analyse Miria's actions, ignoring how afraid Miria was to come see him. Ignoring how he had traumatised Miria, expecting her to simply come flocking back to his open arms. And it hit hard, the reality of all he was.

Selfish, difficult, demanding, deceptive, evil, cruel- the list went on and on. But, living so long, deluding himself into thinking he was simply a Father, a husband, the urge to vomit was something Florice had not felt in so long- and yet he could feel his stomach swirling. Dropping the rattle and looking at his palms, wondering how many had been hurt by these hands. 

"Florice?"

He had been inspecting his palms when he turned to face a curious Miria creeping up behind him. Her naked body concealed by the blanket around her shoulders. He rushed to her, big hand caressing her cheek like she might just vanish any moment. 

"Florice... are you alright?" He looked pale, a little sweat on his forehead, nodding with his eyes shut before stuttering out a response. "I am fine, my dear..." He looked broken. 

Miria looked at the floor, calmly picking up the rattle to admire it. Florice had no idea how she would react, but she smiled lovingly at it. "Oh my... our lovely little girl would be so happy to see us so harmonious and perfect together." 

Florice gulped, hurrying Miria to take a seat on the sofa. "Miria... you... recall the truth, no?" "Truth?" She smiled calmly. "Yes... those things I said yesterday... they are not true. I am not a good man, Miria... our daughter... she is not happy that we are together."

Miria shook her head, grinning at him. "Don't be silly, Florice. As long as we have each other, nothing bad can happen... right?" Florice eyed the rattle in her hand before pulling her into a hug. "No... you are right... nothing bad will happen."

So, had he truly succeeded in training his wife to be perfection? Was she lying to him? His mind was spinning, and there was only one thing left that could make him happy.

"Do you recall my previous offer, about making your life here never end?" Miria nodded, entranced by him. "My offer still stands, dearest, but I will await your humble opinion on the matter."

Miria paused. "Does this mean we can live like we have been, happily, forever?" "Yes," he cupped her hands in his desperately, "we can visit the village daily, we can elope amongst the stars, I will make you happy again."

"...Again...?"

Florice bit his tongue, silently scolding himself. "I am already happy, Florice... everything here, is all I could have asked for."

She got up, walking to the window. "I have a home... I have a daughter out there that loves me, I have you..." she smiled at him again, "of course I would become eternal, for you, for us..."

"But, my Miria... there is something I must confess..."

She blinked a few times, nodding for him to continue as he cleared his throat- clearly nervous.

"I... have treated you horribly. And I-"

"We went over this, Florice. We forgave each other..."

"Listen to my words, please..."

She sighed, urging him to continue.

"I held you here, captive." He pointed to his heart. "I done things to you that I regret, miserably. And the things... the person I showed you I was... I assure you that is not truly me... you are the one person in this world to finally see me as anything but a monster... even our own daughter sees me so. And I... could never wish for anything more then what I have found within you, Miria... therefore, I promise you, if you go through with this procedure, for me, I will never ask anything of you again."

"Florice..." she smiled, lifting his chin to meet her gaze- for once. "You did not even need to ask me. If it is not clear to you by now, that I would follow you wherever you go... then you are an idiot." She laughed, watching him burn red in shame.

Her small hand resting against his cheek, forcing his shining hues back on her face. "Promise me, Florice, that you will never not love me... that is all I need from you."

He had no idea what to say, just staring silently. "I will never know if it was... your serum, you made... or me... but in the foundation," she paused, "for so long... when they separated us, for the longest time I wished to hear your voice again." Florice looked at her with hope in his eyes.

"They asked me so many questions. They kept me in this room, and everyone around me was cold... analytical... they were not warm, not gentle, like you are." She snuggled into him, "I could never tell anyone; they would not understand... they would call me traumatised, broken, but... dreaming only of you... that was the one thing that helped me sleep at night." She smiled into his shoulder, cosying up against him. "I kept wishing you were there, I felt so alone without you... and I truly felt I would never see you again. When I saw you in the cell, I did not see a monster... I saw someone forced to become a monster. The others did not see what I could, my husband- and so, I left... I heard you calling for me, but..."

"Hush, it is alright..." Florice assured, placing an arm around her to tuck her body tighter against his. 

"They just kept reminding me about everything you done to me, making me feel crazy every time I even suggested wanting to be beside you... I tried to forget, they tried to teach me to live again, but I had long since decided that all I wanted was you."

She stared at him, gazing longingly, before planting a soft kiss on his cheek. "I do not want to ever say goodbye to you again. Florice," she gave him a serious look, "I want this... operation." 

"You really want to be stuck with me?" He asked, despising himself. "How could anyone-"

"Be quietened, Florice... I love you... I need to be here, with you."

"Then, it shall be done."


	7. Promises

Coughing, Isabeau felt her body shaking. She cursed under her breath, realising she must be getting sick from the cold. The rain was soaking her clothes, which did not help matters. The only thing she had to hold, and to her her back, was the gun. Six bullets, that was all she had.

She lay beneath a big tree, thinking. Her life was a mess, she herself was a mess, a creation from 049. She was no better then the hellish undead army's he had raised. Being here, being alive, disgusted her. All her nightmares were contained inside of herself. Good and bad making no sense. The foundation were the good guys, right? Wrong.

049 was the bad guy? Wrong.

What a joke. The foundation failed to do their job, they failed to stop 049 from becoming all he had. After all, how can you truly call your own Father a bad guy? He was, yes, but she would always be his daughter. And that made her bad too, even if a tiny part of her mind begged her to realise she was the victim here. But things were too far gone; the only comfort she had was in the thought of murdering him.

Where he was, she did not know. But, he was limited to being on foot. All she had to do was pick a location, which was this big oak tree shielding her from the rain, and walk in each direction for as long as possible. And if she fails, she comes back and tries a new direction.

It was enough to drive anyone insane, but she had the gun, she had hope to save her Mama. At least, being away from people, the hate inside her had simmered a bit. But that was such a cruel thought...she was once adored by her peers, she was once top of the class, she had looks and charisma and-

Isabeau dragged her week body forwards, staring into a muddy puddle. Her hand touching her neck, small whimpers leaving her lips as she thought about her once long hair. And to think, this reflection staring back was just a by-product of that anomaly's twisted love. That thing, that monster, simply wanted some kind of peaceful life with Miria, and if anything got in the way- he would fight back... including his own child.

"What a mess..." Isabeau scoffed, crawling away from the puddle. Deep down, she still despised her Mother. She would never be a Mother to her, in fact, Isabeau could never really say she had experienced what it was like to have a Mother. Always watching everyone around herself call their parents, excitedly boasting about their grades. Isabeau only had her boyfriend to be proud of her. 

It was strange, really. Isabeau had been the top of the class. The teachers adored her, she could do no wrong. The golden child of the room. And yet, the second Isabeau had received that call... the world just... broke.

The smiles around herself, the support, the adoration she received- all of it felt so fake. She was royalty upon a throne of lies, letting her subjects come to worship... only to let them tear her apart the moment she realises the truth. Everything shattering, whilst Isabeau... the tragic and broken queen of this theatrical nonsense, just fell through the cracks. Removing her rusting crown, wondering where to even begin? Plunged into a world where nobody likes her, everyone sees her as broken, and everything is out to hurt her.

But, what?

The smell of food wafting in the air, her stomach rumbling, Isabeau rose to her feet and clutched her aching stomach. Walking across the field, getting even more soaked from the rain, her breathing heightened a little when she noticed some kind of village established here.

Her head tilted to the side in shock. just observing people moving around below from her view on the hill-top. Brows furrowed, lips parted; her jade colours orbs observed the world below in disbelief. It seemed like another otherworldly occurrence; finding some random village here. 

Isabeau tucked her gun out of sight and began cautiously making her way down the hill. People looking at her cautiously, carrying baskets of food, but still smiling nervously. Isabeau checked her pockets, finding some spare money there, and wandered up the nearest woman standing behind a stall full of hot steaming pots of, presumably, soup.

The woman looked elderly, frail in movements. Her tanned skin wrinkled even more when she grinned at the young Isabeau, eyes a dull blue. "Ah, an outsider looking to buy my goods... how exciting."

Isabeau did not speak, glaring a little as she extended her hand to offer some money. "Oh, deary, we don't accept that here... haven't you any food to trade?" 

Isabeau just shot the woman a confused look. "F-food? I... don't worry... it does not matter..."

The woman was about to let her walk away, hearing the young female's stomach rumble loudly, listening to her boots squelch the rain water soaking her feet. "No, no, come back..." she beckoned, watching Isabeau nervously return in front of her. "Here..." she offered her a bowl of hot soup. 

"But... madame, this is far too much kindness..."

"We need kindness in this world. There is not enough of it..."

Isabeau frowned for a moment, thinking about her words. Kindness, did her Father deserve it? Did she even deserve it?

"Merci..."

"Oh, is that French?" The woman clasped her hands together, grinning. 

"Yes... my mother tongue... it just comes out... sometimes..." Isabeau sounded so angry.

"Like the doctor up on the hill! The French one!"

Isabeau felt a small gasp leave her lips, staring blankly at the woman. "Doctor..... on... the hill?"

"Yes, him and his sickly wife!"

"Sickly... sickly... wife..." Isabeau could not even speak, falling to her knees. Vision blurring, breathing hard, her palms hitting the floor to support her body, sweating intensely. She could hear the villagers asking if she was alright, their words echoing. 'Get a grip, Isabeau...' she tried to tell herself, but... every time... 049, that thing, always seemed to find a way back into her life. This made no sense, like a fictional story or something.

Isabeau looked around at this happy village, grunting as she rose to her feet. "Oh dear... your poor knees!" The woman hurried out to held Isabeau. "You should go see the doctor... he lives by the hills."

Secure. Contain. Protect.

Isabeau hid her laughter, gripping her knuckles till they turned white. Her eyes full of hatred, but determination as she stared up at the looming hills on the other side. This village, her Mother, her soul, this world- a silent promise made within the rain to protect it all from the monster she knew as Father.

"Oh don't worry, I am going to see him."

~~~~

"Ah!"

Florice pulled out a bottle of wine from the wooden basket he had taken to the village with him. "Miria, come here!" He grinned, watching Miria tiredly approach. "Oh, were you sleeping?"

"Well, I was..." she yawned, "but you were so loud..."

He grinned, grabbing and kissing her passionately. "I am so happy, everything is so perfect right now! Come, drink, be merry with me."

Miria sighed, smirking. "No... I am going back to sleep..." She dismissed him with a wave, oblivious to his deep frown set on her as she left.

Florice eyed the bottle of wine, flicking off the lid and taking a sip. "Merde... goodness... it has been some time..."

But Florice kept drinking, wallowing in his own secret self pity. Staring blankly outside as raindrops hit the window. Wondering why it broke his heart when Miria said she loved him. Wondering why his own regret was so hard to see; he kept trying to dismiss it for fatigue, but deep down- he knew his imperfect self had destroyed the woman he loved.

The harsh words of the foundation ringing in his ears. 'Monster, rapist, evil...' he took another long sip. His gaze going to the bedroom, smirking drunkenly as he remembered the screams and pleas of his wife. That was true love, having her tied at his discretion. Not having this constant fear that he was being tricked. 

He checked the bottle, seeing hardly anything left inside. "Oh Mon Dieu, this is..." he could not even finish his own sentence, standing and staggering to the mirror closest to him. Glaring at his reflection, then letting his eyes trail back to the bedroom... setting the bottle down and making his way inside. 

He did promise to always make his wife love a monster, right?


	8. Forced affections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non/Con warning

Florice blinked a few times, holding the door frame for support. His breathing unsteady as he clambered over to the bed where Miria slept. She looked stunning; so serene, hair a little messy from lying on her side. "Mi-ria... m-my... Miria..." he whispered, gently brushing some hair from her face as she slept.

His eyes wandered over her face, his lips letting out a husky impatient growl. "My darling... angel," he hiccupped a few times, "you don't have to keep l-lying to me..." his hand went back to petting her hair. "Y-you... you make me suspicious on purpose... you m-make me angry on purpose..." he leant closer to her, whispering. "You drive me mad..."

"You know I need you... know I n-need you to myself... and yet you ask me to... l-let you go?" 

Miria stirred a little, hearing the noise. "Their hands upon yours... their eyes looking at you... looking at... what is... mine..."

Florice breathed hard, looking outside for a moment. "I don't want.." he got up, shutting the curtains slowly, "anyone... looking at... what is... mine."

His hands gripping the curtain, teeth grit, anger rising. Feelings he cannot fight, memories of being called rapist, his heart crying. His eyes glazing over to a spare piece of rope discarded beneath the bed, crouching awkwardly to retrieve it and staring at it for a moment or two. 

All in one moment, caring about what was wrong and right vanished. Florice leapt upon Miria, pinning her body down with his. "Florice!?" She woke quickly, seeing him above her. His wrists pinning hers down, his face concealed by shadow as he puffed and panted. "Florice? What..."

"Silence!"

Miria flinched instantly, about to protest before his lips met hers with such force. Nothing gentle about this; she could feel his tongue trying to break past her lips as her small legs tried kicking him away. He broke the kiss, admiring her shaking beneath him.

"Florice? What is this? What are you doing?"

"This is what should be happening! You are my wife, MINE! I do not need to ask you for permission to do anything. If I wish to make you eternal, so help me Miria, I will make you so."

"B-But..." she tried shifting beneath him, but was frozen, "we... forgave each other... what about our promise to love each other?"

He only growled, tightening the grip on her wrists.

"Florice! I thought you trusted me... I thought you loved-"

He crashed his lips upon her again, even going so far to tenderly bite her bottom lip; watching her yelp out in pain. "Florice... please... I don't like this... this hurts me!" She panicked when he held her down with one hand, sitting his weight above her frail body, tying her hands above her to the headboard. "Florice! You've never hurt me before, p-please... let's talk about this!"

Miria shuddered as if she was cold, peeking up at Florice who stared down at her. His hand caressing her face, before sliding down her neck, down her collarbone- bringing shivers to her spine. Before reaching the collar of her nightshirt, smirking and laughing coldly for one moment, meeting her eyes, before ripping it.

Miria yelped as the fabric split, revealing her breasts. "FLORICE!"

Florice had never heard Miria scream so... well, how she did. High pitched, eyes shut as tears streamed, and when she did open her eyes- those forest hues set on his golden eyes and trembled. He spent a moment just watching her tremble, watching her sob, feeling his grip on her clothes tighten as rage filled him; ripping it clean off.

"Florice please-"

His hand went over her mouth, silencing her into muffled pleas as he lowered his face to her breasts. Occasionally peeking at his wife's face, who looked even more horrified the moment his lips began worshipping her hardened buds. She tried pulling her hands from her bindings, only earning an honest chuckle as he sucked and kissed her right nipple. 

"MMMPPPH!"

"Oh? What is it... d-darling?"

He released his hand from her mouth, using it to massage her other breast. Watching her flail and twitch every time his palm ran over her nipple. "Florice... please... I beg you... don't do this... don't betray me like this..."

"That's it," he cooed, licking between her breasts, "beg me, Miria... beg me to tie you up and pleasure you until you can no longer speak..."

"You... deceived me..." 

Florice paused his actions, looking up to see Miria openly sobbing. "No, no, shhhh, don't cry..." he crawled up closer to her face, watching her try to turn away from him. His legs entwined with hers, he grasped her chin to turn her head and access her neck. Licking and kissing the skin there, grinning when Miria moaned a little, before he bit down- making Miria yell out in agony. Her eyes full of pain, full of terror, body trying hard to release itself from her bondage.

"That's it, my wife... scream for me... scream your affections for me!"

"Help me... oh god... you've lost your mind..." she cried, broken.

"Have I?" He spat, rising so that he hovered above her. "Over twenty years together, and you still do not love me!"

"I do! Florice... you know I do!"

"It is not enough... maybe I am the monster they say I am... the monster you swore to never love. But, I need to see you... begging for me."

He ripped the sheets off of her body, revealing her lower half. Only panties left on her body, he was quick to rip them off. Miria let out a string of whimpers, gritting her teeth as she tried her hardest to keep her legs closed... the first time truly fighting him with everything she had left.

The strength and pain gained from everything that had happened, this betrayal especially, but it was not enough. He ripped her legs apart, licking his lips as he stared at her lower half. "F-F-Florice... please..."

"SILENCE!"

Miria opened her mouth, silence coming out at first before she whined out in pain; arching her back as she felt two of his digits rush inside of her. "NO! FLORICE STOP!"

"Do not make me gag you... my wife... you are mine... I will do as I please with you."

"Don't you care about... our trust?"

"I no longer care what is wrong or right... I am far beyond that point... All I need now, is you."

Miria panicked, quickly reaching an orgasm as he fingers stretched her open and toyed around with her clit. "Wh-What happened, huh? Can't handle a drink?" She was trying to understand why he was doing this. "I don't need an answer... you've always been this way... you deceived me... you never loved-"

"Please, believe me when I say..." he paused as Miria moaned loudly, releasing her need. He pulled out his fingers, inspecting them for a moment before a blush came to his face, licking them clean. Miria gulped, disgusted by his drunken monstrous behaviour. He slurped loudly, grinning once his fingers were clean, and finished his sentence. "I have always loved you."

He crouched down, face hovering above her opening. "Remember this? Remember how it felt on our wedding night?" He kissed her inner thigh, and she flinched. "Oh~ it felt so good doing this, knowing that in the morning when he woke up, you would be my wife..." 

Miria groaned out, tiny hands grasping the rope around her wrist as his tongue met her moist and numb womanhood. "Th-This is not like you, Florice... please... please stop...."

"My dear, it is exactly like me... All I have ever wished for, is you. You are my obsession, my deepest and only desire. Fate brought us together and I shall see to it that fate will not take you away. I will make you eternal and then," he let his tongue slide up and down her opening, caressing her clit for a moment, "I will please you every day... I am loyal to only you, I need and worship only you..."

"Florice... think this through... you are drunk... please..."

"Enough! I have had enough of this c-churlish behaviour! Give in to me! Just... s-submit at last!"

Miria felt his hands grasp the backs of her thighs, raising her legs so her ankles sat on his shoulders. Florice offered her one last crazed look before slamming his hips forth into her. Miria let out a pitiful noise, a mixture between a moan and a cry.

He was big, filling her quickly. And he usually did not go so rough or push himself all the way inside of her, but she felt his entire length buried deep in her numbness. "F-Flo-Florice..."

"You can't even speak... delirious with me inside of you... and t-that is how it should be... you begging me... unable to spend a single moment without your loving husband deep inside of you..." He leant closer, stretching her open more by accident as she whined, grinning as he teased: "I will make sure of it..."

Back and forth, she felt him force another orgasm out of her. His drunken self oblivious to how exhausted she was, constantly readjusting his position and then ploughing into her once more. Finding release at the last moment, where Miria deflated from exhaustion.

Florice got up, pecking her cheek just one. "I will be back soon... M-Miria... and I will let you think about your actions..." With that, he left, shutting the door behind himself.


	9. The final fight

Florice opened his eyes slowly; the light a little too blinding for his liking. Looking up to see the sky outside dark, but still light enough to see. The clock on the wall set at 10:13, the sun still shining through the storm clouds. Florice listened to the gentle rain tapping on the window, asking to come in, before rising.

He was a little wobbly, but determined to go see Miria. So, he held his breath and made his way into the room. Miria was lying on her side, arms twisted due to being tied at the wrists to the bedpost over her head. She was completely naked, shaking a little, but what bothered Florice more was the bruises.

Heavy purple finger marks on her thighs, her neck swollen and purple, hair a mess... the regret, the realisation of what he had done, was enough to make him almost throw up... but he stayed firm, walking quickly to her side.

"Miria... Miria...!"

She kept her eyes shut, clearly awake, but refusing to speak. "Miria... darling...?" Nothing, and Florice ran a hand through his locks in stress.

He left the room swiftly, hurrying to get her a glass of water. She had called him mad, that much he remembered. The panic clear as he emptied every cupboard, smashing his hands through his carefully positions possessions. Rushing back to Miria with water and some painkillers. Not a fan of such things, but they could do at times like this.

"Miria... please...?!"

She opened her eyes slowly, staring at him tiredly. He lifted her body a little, holding her in his arms as he sat on the bed. "Oh, my Miria... I got you back..." he smiled, feeling warm inside again. But when she did not respond, simply staring at him, he called her name again. "My wife...?"

"I'm never coming back..."

Fear had never struck the plague doctor so hard. He shook Miria a little, careful to be gentle. "Miria? What... do you mean? Miria?!" She just kept her green hues set on him, lips parted a little as she breathed weakly. "Miria please! Speak to me! What do you mean by that?!" He took her hand desperately, pulling at the restraints and leaning closer to it, planting a kiss on the back of her palm and watching her hand fall limp. 

Florice turned his golden hues to the booming thunder outside, breathing a little harder as he rushed out in a panic- returning with his leather operation bag. Muttering to himself curses and reassuring words, reminding himself he 'knew what he was doing,' as he lay out the plans beside Miria's limp body. "Not to fret, my love... we shall complete this operation in no time..."

Miria turned her head weakly to the window, watching the lightning through the curtains. Miria paid no mind to the feel of the scalpel, and various other tools resting against her bare flesh. Ignoring her husband as he spoke to her, just staring up at the ceiling and listening to the storm.

"Merde... one moment..." Florice realised he forgot an important detail, rushing down the stairs to get his utensil. The home was so dark; the electricity going out every few seconds from the storm overhead. All windows and curtains shut. Even the plague doctor had an issue seeing.

Florice reached the kitchen table, taking out the largest knife available and pausing. A rush of cold air hitting him; his robes fluttering as he turned. Isabeau, dripping wet, mud covering patches of her skin and hair, stepped into his humble home- accompanied by the loudest crack of thunder.

Golden eyes met jade ones, both staring for the longest time as the storm done the talking for the two. Florice watched her eyes change; madness, hatred, rage, jealousy, disgust- she lifted a handgun straight to face him. "Isabeau... is that really you?"

"Yes... 0-4-9," she spat, "it's me... I am back..."

Florice took a step closer to her, his heavy boots clunking against the wooden floor. "Well... is this a pleasant surprise? Non?" Isabeau kept her hardened glare, stepping sideways into the house as Florice stepped closer to her. "What are you waiting for, ma violette? Do you not wish to give your own Father a hug?"

Isabeau could feel her heart beating one-hundred beats per second, barely able to breathe- let alone respond. "Or could it be the world has poisoned your mind, hmm? Turned you against your own flesh and blood..."

"You are not my Father..."

She spat, walking in circles with him. "Oh, but I am..." he grinned, "You can pick your friends, you can pick your loved ones... but you cannot run from your own blood, Isabeau... No matter what you might think, you are a part of me... as I am you."

Isabeau gulped, keeping eye contact. "Well... a shame then, Father, that this is goodbye."

"Is that so?" He chuckled. "Prey tell... why could that be?"

"You know why... I am here for my Mother!"

He laughed, clutching his stomach in hysterics. "Your mother?! Your mother does not love you..." Isabeau let out a small whimpering sound, glancing at him fearfully. "Your own Mother abandoned you so many times, in a futile attempt to flee me! She does not love you!" He was laughing harder now.

"The truth!" Isabeau raised the gun to her Papa. "Do not make me kill you, without hearing this first. Tell me, was I truly born from rape? Huh? Was there no consent at all in this... sick relationship of yours?!"

"Yes..." Florice paused, calm in voice, regretful even. "I took your Mother without consent... but, that is to not say she did not enjoy it."

"Isabeau!"

Isabeau heard her Mother call her, going to call back before Florice swung the knife directly at his own daughter. Isabeau managed to duck just in time, running from the room. Her hands holding herself tightly, panic in her eyes as she found herself in some random room with no exits. 

Everything had led to this moment, the final fight, and Isabeau could not find the strength inside of herself to kill him. 'Come on, come on...' she whispered to herself, hearing him come closer. "Isabeau, run!" Miria screamed from another room, and Isabeau shut her eyes tight; promising not to make the same mistake twice- she would not run.

Scrambling beneath the table in the centre of the room, Isabeau held her breath. Hands shaking on the gun, she remembered a time where she would play hide and seek...

'Where is my little girl?' Florice would call, creeping around the home after a seven year old baby Isabeau. 'BOO!' She would always jump out at him, watching him jump and fake drop to his knees, pretending to suffer a heart attack of kinds... whilst she moaned his name, embarrassed, only to giggle as he lifted her into the air and called her the best daughter on Earth.

"Come out... Isabeau.." Isabeau heard him call, staring at the gun and shaking. "Where is my little girl?" He called, boots clunking against the floor as he entered the room. Unsettling, he was humming some old French tune as he went, searching.

Miria felt sweat running down her forehead, arching her whole body. Cuts in her hip as she shuffled the scalpel closer and closer to her mouth; flinching a little when the blade rest against her neck, but urging herself forth to take it in her mouth anyway. Whimpering as she tried her best to cut the rope around her wrist with the scalpel resting between her lips.

Isabeau gulped, watching the lights flicker in the room, before a knife burst straight through the table from above her head. She yelped, rushing out from there and turning to see Florice eyeing her sideways, struggling to pull the knife out. "She is mine... and I will kill ANYONE WHO GETS IN MY WAY!"

Isabeau had horror on her face, holding the gun out at him, begging herself not to pull the trigger. The sound of a gunshot going off made Miria jump from her skin, yelling her daughters name. Florice looked at his shoulder, the discoloured blood seeping out through his robes, before looking up at Isabeau with a dissatisfied expression.

Isabeau held a hand over her mouth, watching him pull the knife from the table before clicking his shoulder back into place. "P’tite Poupée... you have just made the worst mistake in your life..."

He gave chase, limping a little, but still- Isabeau was yelping and rushing from the room... terrified. But, he was on her in an instant; dragging her by her clothes till her back smashed against the ground. 

"Ah, merde!" 

"See, my little girl... you even speak your Father's tongue..." he was breathing hard, kneeling over her... "I brought you into this world, and I will be the one taking you out of it..."

Isabeau tried a movement she learnt at the foundation, but Florice recognised it instantly, causing her to smash her head back down against the wood below. Holding his daughters cheek tenderly. "I will make this quick... I do not show such kindness to all those who stand in my way..."

He rose the kitchen knife in the air, staring down at Isabeau as she fought for consciousness. Going to plunge the knife into her stomach, before a small set of hands rest upon his back. Florice peeked over his shoulder, dropping the knife instantly when he saw Miria, naked, smiling at him.

"M-Miria?? My darling..."

She revealed from behind her back, the syringe with the serum to become eternal. "M-My love..." she passed it to him, watching him beam with joy. "Yes," he looked at Isabeau in disgust, even going so far as to kick her gently whilst she lay on the floor, "let us show this unfortunate unwanted child what it is to truly love..."

Miria winced a little, feeling her husbands hands running over her skin. Gulping and accepting her fate for the final time, shutting her eyes.

At the sound of painful gargling, she opened her forest hues, only to quickly cover her mouth in pure terror. Florice held the needle in hand, raising it with a shaking movement to plunge it into Miria's soft skin, if it were not for the knife running straight through his neck. 

He dropped to the floor with a heavy thud, and Miria took a few steps back. Isabeau was bleeding heavily, brows fully furrowed, eyes wild and crazed. The gun in her hand was still set on Florice as she fired five more shots directly at his body, screaming wildly amongst the claps of thunder and lightning around herself.

When Florice stopped moving entirely, Isabeau dropped to her knees. Pale, shaking, her lips were parted and her eyes were dull. Miria rushed to her, rubbing her hands across her cheeks and calling her name. "Isabeau! Isabeau! Isa-"

Isabeau looked into her Mother's eyes, exhausted. "My daughter..." Miria hugged her tightly, feeling the younger daughter use the last of her strength to rise and carry her Mother up with her. Isabeau then looked around, pulling down the closest curtain and throwing it around her Mother's body, still unable to do anything but stagger and breathe heavily.

"Mi...ri...a...."

Both females reached the door to leave, looking back at the plague doctors dormant body. 

Walking along the dirt road, Miria could feel her feet cut open by every rock hitting her. Never once speaking a word to Isabeau, who she knew was wounded heavily... and yet had her arm around her body, helping her Mother walk. The look in Isabeau's eyes... that was something unforgettable. It was the same look Florice had in his eyes when he lost it... like Father, like daughter.

"Isabeau!"

Isabeau collapsed to the floor with a thud, trying to prop herself up and failing. "I'm so sorry for everything Isabeau..." Miria tried to scoop her body up, but was far too weak. Isabeau managed to prop herself up, just listening to her Mother speak. "Let me be the mother that you never had. That I never could be... For you, my daughter..."

The rain falling down on them both, Miria started sobbing loudly... even harder when Isabeau accepted her hug. Both just kneeling in the mud, hugging as the rain joined their tears. 'I have to be strong...' Isabeau thought; five wise words before she broke down too, crushing her Mother against her chest in a returned hug. The first time the two had ever hugged in their existence, without any eyes on them.

"You're someone I never wished for, when I was captive. But in the end, you were the one who saved me..." Miria sobbed openly. "And I cant ever hope to atone for how I've treated you, my little baby... I'm so sorry..." she cried louder, "I'm so sorry... For being so weak."

Isabeau, looking so broken, had been searching her mother for the same mask she sees everyone to wear, worried her mother cannot be trusted or will hurt her. But then seeing Miria so genuine, and hugging her... 

"I was just as weak as you Mom... I left you behind.... I abandoned you because it was easier... But I'm here now."

"Are you ready to go?" Miria asked, rising shakily with Isabeau at her side. 

"Where? Where do we go?" Isabeau asked, lost and completely destroyed inside.

"Home... me and you... to our home."

Isabeau gulped, taking her Mother's hand in her own. Their feet wounded, stumbling along the long dirt path. Never once did either female look back, just watching as the sun rose overhead in the direction they were walking.


	10. The bad ending (Alternative)

Florice opened his eyes slowly; the light a little too blinding for his liking. Looking up to see the sky outside dark, but still light enough to see. The clock on the wall set at 10:13, the sun still shining through the storm clouds. Florice listened to the gentle rain tapping on the window, asking to come in, before rising.

He was a little wobbly, but determined to go see Miria. So, he held his breath and made his way into the room. Miria was lying on her side, arms twisted due to being tied at the wrists to the bedpost over her head. She was completely naked, shaking a little, but what bothered Florice more was the bruises.

Heavy purple finger marks on her thighs, her neck swollen and purple, hair a mess... the regret, the realisation of what he had done, was enough to make him almost throw up... but he stayed firm, walking quickly to her side.

"Miria... Miria...!"

She kept her eyes shut, clearly awake, but refusing to speak. "Miria... darling...?" Nothing, and Florice ran a hand through his locks in stress.

He left the room swiftly, hurrying to get her a glass of water. She had called him mad, that much he remembered. The panic clear as he emptied every cupboard, smashing his hands through his carefully positions possessions. Rushing back to Miria with water and some painkillers. Not a fan of such things, but they could do at times like this.

"Miria... please...?!"

She opened her eyes slowly, staring at him tiredly. He lifted her body a little, holding her in his arms as he sat on the bed. "Oh, my Miria... I got you back..." he smiled, feeling warm inside again. But when she did not respond, simply staring at him, he called her name again. "My wife...?"

"I'm never coming back..."

Fear had never struck the plague doctor so hard. He shook Miria a little, careful to be gentle. "Miria? What... do you mean? Miria?!" She just kept her green hues set on him, lips parted a little as she breathed weakly. "Miria please! Speak to me! What do you mean by that?!" He took her hand desperately, pulling at the restraints and leaning closer to it, planting a kiss on the back of her palm and watching her hand fall limp.

Florice turned his golden hues to the booming thunder outside, breathing a little harder as he rushed out in a panic- returning with his leather operation bag. Muttering to himself curses and reassuring words, reminding himself he 'knew what he was doing,' as he lay out the plans beside Miria's limp body. "Not to fret, my love... we shall complete this operation in no time..."

Miria turned her head weakly to the window, watching the lightning through the curtains. Miria paid no mind to the feel of the scalpel, and various other tools resting against her bare flesh. Ignoring her husband as he spoke to her, just staring up at the ceiling and listening to the storm.

"Merde... one moment..." Florice realised he forgot an important detail, rushing down the stairs to get his utensil. The home was so dark; the electricity going out every few seconds from the storm overhead. All windows and curtains shut. Even the plague doctor had an issue seeing.

Florice reached the kitchen table, taking out the largest knife available and pausing. A rush of cold air hitting him; his robes fluttering as he turned. Isabeau, dripping wet, mud covering patches of her skin and hair, stepped into his humble home- accompanied by the loudest crack of thunder.

Golden eyes met jade ones, both staring for the longest time as the storm done the talking for the two. Florice watched her eyes change; madness, hatred, rage, jealousy, disgust- she lifted a handgun straight to face him. "Isabeau... is that really you?"

"Yes... 0-4-9," she spat, "it's me... I am back..."

Florice took a step closer to her, his heavy boots clunking against the wooden floor. "Well... is this a pleasant surprise? Non?" Isabeau kept her hardened glare, stepping sideways into the house as Florice stepped closer to her. "What are you waiting for, ma violette? Do you not wish to give your own Father a hug?"

Isabeau could feel her heart beating one-hundred beats per second, barely able to breathe- let alone respond. "Or could it be the world has poisoned your mind, hmm? Turned you against your own flesh and blood..."

"You are not my Father..."

She spat, walking in circles with him. "Oh, but I am..." he grinned, "You can pick your friends, you can pick your loved ones... but you cannot run from your own blood, Isabeau... No matter what you might think, you are a part of me... as I am you."

Isabeau gulped, keeping eye contact. "Well... a shame then, Father, that this is goodbye."

"Is that so?" He chuckled. "Prey tell... why could that be?"

"You know why... I am here for my Mother!"

He laughed, clutching his stomach in hysterics. "Your mother?! Your mother does not love you..." Isabeau let out a small whimpering sound, glancing at him fearfully. "Your own Mother abandoned you so many times, in a futile attempt to flee me! She does not love you!" He was laughing harder now.

"The truth!" Isabeau raised the gun to her Papa. "Do not make me kill you, without hearing this first. Tell me, was I truly born from rape? Huh? Was there no consent at all in this... sick relationship of yours?!"

"Yes..." Florice paused, calm in voice, regretful even. "I took your Mother without consent... but, that is to not say she did not enjoy it."

"Isabeau!"

Isabeau heard her Mother call her, going to call back before Florice swung the knife directly at his own daughter. Isabeau managed to duck just in time, running from the room. Her hands holding herself tightly, panic in her eyes as she found herself in some random room with no exits.

Everything had led to this moment, the final fight, and Isabeau could not find the strength inside of herself to kill him. 'Come on, come on...' she whispered to herself hearing him come closer. "Isabeau, run!" Miria screamed from another room, and Isabeau shut her eyes tight; promising not to make the same mistake twice- she would not run.

Scrambling beneath the table in the centre of the room, Isabeau held her breath. Hands shaking on the gun, she remembered a time where she would play hide and seek...

'Where is my little girl?' Florice would call, creeping around the home after a seven year old baby Isabeau. 'BOO!' She would always jump out at him, watching him jump and fake drop to his knees, pretending to suffer a heart attack of kinds... whilst she moaned his name, embarrassed, only to giggle as he lifted her into the air and called her the best daughter on Earth.

"Come out... Isabeau.." Isabeau heard him call, staring at the gun and shaking. "Where is my little girl?" He called, boots clunking against the floor as he entered the room. Unsettling, he was humming some old French tune as he went, searching.

Miria felt sweat running down her forehead, arching her whole body. Cuts in her hip as she shuffled the scalpel closer and closer to her mouth; flinching a little when the blade rest against her neck, but urging herself forth to take it in her mouth anyway. Whimpering as she tried her best to cut the rope around her wrist with the scalpel resting between her lips.

Isabeau gulped, watching the lights flicker in the room, before a knife burst straight through the table. She yelped, rushing out from there and turning to see Florice eyeing her sideways, struggling to pull the knife out. "She is mine... and I will kill ANYONE WHO GETS IN MY WAY!"

Isabeau had horror on her face, holding the gun out at him, begging herself not to pull the trigger. The sound of a gunshot going off made Miria jump from her skin, yelling her daughters name. Florice looked at his shoulder, the discoloured blood seeping out through his robes, before looking up at Isabeau with a dissatisfied expression.

Isabeau held a hand over her mouth, watching him pull the knife from the table before clicking his shoulder back into place. "P’tite Poupée... you just made the worst mistake in your life..."

He gave chase, limping a little, but still- Isabeau was yelping and rushing from the room... terrified. But, he was on her in an instant; dragging her by her clothes till her back smashed against the ground.

"Ah, merde!"

"See, my little girl... you even speak your Father's tongue..." he was breathing hard, kneeling over her... "I brought you into this world, and I will be the one taking you out of it..."

Isabeau tried a movement she learnt at the foundation, but Florice recognised it instantly, causing her to smash her head back down against the wood below. Holding his daughters cheek tenderly. "I will make this quick... I do not show such kindness to all those who stand in my way..."

He rose the kitchen knife in the air, staring down at Isabeau as she fought for consciousness. Going to plunge the knife into her stomach, before a small set of hands rest upon his back. Florice peeked over his shoulder, dropping the knife instantly when he saw Miria, naked, smiling at him.

"M-Miria?? My darling..."

She revealed from behind her back, the syringe with the serum to become eternal. "M-My love..." she passed it to him, watching him beam with joy. "Yes," he looked at Isabeau in disgust, even going so far as to kick her gently whilst she lay on the floor, "let us show this unfortunate unwanted child what it is to truly love..."

Miria winced a little, feeling her husbands hands running over her skin. Gulping and accepting her fate for the final time, shutting her eyes.

"No! YOU BLASTHEMUS LITTLE-"

Miria opened her eyes, shocked to see the syringe stuck in Isabeau's forearm. Her eyes going a little funny as her body accepted the serum. Eyes shutting, Isabeau attempted to stop herself shaking- but it was like she could feel the power of a thousand men rushing through her veins. Yelling in pure anguish, as she was powerless- unable to do anything from the pain as Florice rushed to Mira.

"Hurry Miria... let us leave... we can still run..."

Miria looked confused, eyes darting between Isabeau and Florice as he attempted to drag her outside. 

"L-LEAVE HER ALONE!" Isabeau yelled, still unable to move. This was never ever going to end, unless something happened. And now, Isabeau knew she was not the one going to end this with her life.

Fighting the pain, gritting her teeth, Isabeau pulled the gun to face her Mother and Father. Watching Florice try to convince Miria to leave with him, rushing to find her something to place over her body before leaving into the storm. 

"Mom..."

Miria turned, peeking over her shoulder at Isabeau holding the gun, "I love you..."

The sound of the gun being fired resonated through the hills. Florice returned at once, a coat in hand for Miria, who lay lifeless on the floor. The coat was dropped, Florice dropping to his knees. 

"What... have you done..."

He turned, eyes full of tears, voice full of rage. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"

Isabeau breathed hard, unable to answer for a moment. A small smile creeping onto her lips as she spoke. "I... have freed my Mother..."

Florice wept frantically, not moving from Miria's limp body as he called her name. Isabeau listened to the sound of a helicopter overhead, falling to her knees. 'They come now, huh? When I have killed my Mother with my own hands...' She looked at her bloody and bruised palms, eyes blurring... mind not wanting to accept what just happened.

She rose with shaky steps, walking to the counter where an untouched glass of water sat. Picking it up, ignoring the blood running into the clear liquid, staining it with clouds of red, from her palms. Taking a sip, feeling tears come as the sound of MTF could be heard outside. 

~~~~

049 sat in his chamber, refusing to speak to a single soul. The nervous researcher leaned into the microphone. "Morning 049... we have some crosstesting today, uh.. if that is alright?"

049 glanced at the man coldly. "Since when do I get a choice?" He spat.

What SCP would be sent in today? All of them utterly useless in his bid to... well, escape was no longer important. His life was just spent wallowing in self-pity, remembering how Miria felt in his arms... dead. She was heavy, she did not respond, she did not look at him or call his name...

"Okay, audio-log set... cross testing begins now."

049 looked up in boredom, folding his arms as someone in an orange jumpsuit stepped into the room. He let out a scoff, looking away. But the voice that spoke to him was far too familiar.

"Hello Father..."

He looked up instantly. Staring back, Isabeau. A wicked and hateful smile on her face. Scar's all over her body, similar to his own. "Isabeau..." his cold voice reigned.

But... impossible! It had been over twenty years and she had not aged a bit...

His face soured. The serum...

"You know... the look you give me, Father... it is pure hatred... but you know you can't kill me, don't you?" Isabeau smirked, leaning closer. "Keep that mask... keep that stupid fucking mask. You were never human, and you deserve to hide behind it."

She breathed unsteady from her own rage eating her alive. "Foul thing..." he mocked, "you are fated to be consumed by your own hatred... and it is justified for what you done to your own Mother..."

"I hope you never forgive me..." she leant even closer, grinning, "My existence has always served as a way to keep her alive... right? So now, let my permanent existence here, in your life, remind you of all you lost."

She grasped his robes, forcing him to look at her. "Look at my fucking face, and remember her. Because I am never going away... I will never let you live a single fucking day without the misery you made her feel." 

049 gulped, turning away as a guard was sent in to drag Isabeau away. "KEEP WATCHING ME, FATHER! KEEP LOOKING AT THIS FACE, REMEMBER IT WELL! WE ARE GOING TO BE TOGETHER FOR A LONG LONG TIME!"

Her maniacal laughs could be heard leaving the hall.

"049... do you wish to take a break...?" The scientist asked, genuine with concern.

049 thought about his pain, thought about the child cursed to remind him of all he lost for eternity. "I wish to be alone... yes..." he moped, returning to his bed to mope. He had eternity to do this...


	11. Epilogue

"Next, Miss Izzy Smith!"

There was an audible cheering as Izzy stepped up on the stage, her black gown flowing. She grinned at Miria in the audience, holding her diploma with a shameless smile. "Well done, take your seat." Izzy waved in big circles to Miria, before sitting back down.

The ceremony ended, and Miria patiently waited for Izzy to say goodbye to her friends before turning to face her Mama. The sparkle in Izzy's eyes lit up the room, hair grown back to her shoulder length, scars healed. "Well... well done, little miss surgeon." Izzy grinned, showing Miria the details on her diploma.

'LEGAL NAME: Miss Izzy Smith.  
Diploma for: Surgeon/doctorial studies'

Miria teared up. 

"Oh Mom... don't cry here... come on, you promised me ice-cream..."

"I know.. I am just so.. proud of you!"

Izzy pulled her Mother to her friends, introducing each and every one to her Mother, before making Miria take one big group picture of Izzy and her friends. The rosy haze of pride and happiness present on Miria's face as she done so.

She was admiring the photo whilst Izzy took far too many sips of champagne with her pals, turning and bumping into someone.

"Oh! I am so sorr-"

Miria paused, taking in the sight of this taller man. Blonde locks of hair so bright, warm brown eyes set directly on hers, and toned body glistening from the previous work-out he must have done. His shirt some kind of boxing club uniform. 

He chuckled, "are you alright?" 

"O-Oh... Y-yeah... I.... yeah...-"

"I am Max..." he smiled, awkward, "are you uh..." he paused, "sorry, yeah... don't know why I acted like I would know..." he was blushing red, nervous. 

Miria looked up at him, batting her lashes. "That's a nice name..."

"Yeah... I know... no, I mean... yours is a name... a nice one..." he shook himself, "sorry no, let me start over. What is your name?"

"Miria..."

"Mom!" Izzy hurried over, grinning at the scene. "Oh! Mr. Thomson! Look's like you finally met Mom, huh?"

Both adults blushed, avoiding eye contact.

"Hey Mom... you wanted to take self defence classes, right? Mr. Thompson is. THE. BEST!"

Miria raised a brow. "You work here?"

"Yeah... professor of sport... uh... yeah..." he rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry... is it hot in here? Phew... I... damn..."

Miria smirked to herself. "Well, I do want to take lessons..."

"Oh yeah! Do it... please? And ask for Max, yeah?"

Izzy whined, "come on, Mom! Let's go!"

Miria smiled at Max, "well, I gotta go on an ice-cream date now... but I won't forget you..." she stammered, burning red, "to call... I m-meant..."

Izzy forced Miria into the ice-cream parlour a few streets away. Both ordering the most expensive and largest thing on the menu, sharing flavours and taking thousands of photos of each other covered in ice-cream. Both to never even think of the misery in the past, and even if they did, 049 did not deserve tears outside of the bedroom, right? They would never tell anyone he even existed; he could rot alone in the cell, whilst only the pillow ever learnt of his existence and the tears he caused.

'~~~~~~

"Well, well, well," 049 looked up at the unfamiliar scientist. "How are you enjoying the new keter wing, hmm?" 049 ignored, glaring hard. "I think you'll find it is much nicer then the euclid wing... those chains will make sure you never get cold, or perhaps want to take a walk through the halls. It gets awfully cold out there." The man laughed, tipping his coffee back down his throat.

"Well, we have some questions today-

"Where is my... my Miria?"

The scientist smirked, clicking his tongue a few times as 049 raised his gaze to him. Hands outstretched and painful from the chains around them. 

"Long gone. She's no longer here... You'll never see her again."

049 slowly looked up, meeting the man's gaze. "The chains of fate, good doctor, cannot be broken by anyone. Not by me, not by you, and certainly not by this establishment."

"You are right... 049... and that is why we, at the SCP Foundation, will not make the same mistake again..." the doctor got closer to the window, "you will never get out of here."

"You might not make the same mistake, foundation. But neither will I." 049 urged himself forth. "Some day, you will become familiar to the idea of me here, in these chains. And you will disregard them. One day, you shall turn your back on these chains, and that will be the day... I will be sure to rid the world of all of you."

"Sure... hey, 03891 bring in the pics!" The scientist yelled, calling some stray D-class to the window. 049 watched as a set of photos were shown to him. 

The first was Miria and Isabeau linking arms, walking down some busy street- so content. Unaware of the photo, 049 assumed.

"They do not need you anymore, 049... let. them. go."

049 kept silent, making the scientist sigh and beckon the next photo. A blonde man holding onto Miria's waist, kissing her passionately in some serene woodland settling. "Let her go, 049..." he reminded again, "for your own sake..."

"Give it up 049. It's over."

"It's never truly over. She will never be free of me."

The scientist sighed, shaking his head as he left. The lights turning off in the cell and room outside, 049 hung his head low, sad almost. "Just as I Will never be free of her..."


	12. Till death do us part.... the lament

"My love!"

Miria turned, using her walking stick to support her frail elderly body. There, standing before herself, a young Florice.

Standing in the alley by her back garden, Miria had made quite a life for herself. Twenty years finally dating Max, after he had finally asked her to be his. She was now sixty years of age, grey in hair and wrinkled in the face.

"...Florice?" Miria wheezed, stepping closer to him. He instantly went to grab her, but hovered his hands over her body in fear of breaking someone so fragile and elderly. 

"My love... You're getting old..."

"You're late, 049."

He let out a soft gasp, stepping back a little. "But... I searched for you... for so long..."

"Mmm, it must have been over thirty years of you searching, yes?" Elderly Miria laughed weekly. 

"Yes, yes! But, I have found you now, so-"

"I'll never be yours again. Perhaps you desired me when I was young and beautiful, but... Surely you must see what you lost."

She offered him her hand, and Florice took it shyly. She led him closer to her back garden, remaining hidden beneath a tree, but pointing to a young girl and boy playing amongst the flowers. 

"See those kids there, Florice?" Florice paused, looking at Miria with a confused expression. A familiar voice calling the two young kids into the lovely home. "We're living happily, Florice. This is what you sacrificed, when you kidnapped me. You were fated to lose from day one."

Florice was speechless, trying to find the words. "Surely you don't do much with an old woman like me, Florice?"

He shook his head, grasping her hands in his own. "I... I could make you young again... There's still time, the eternity-"

"Enough." He was silenced by her sharp glare.

"Look at yourself. You've wrapped your head around me. You lost everything else in pursuit of this... Sick affection. And even then, you could only hurt the one thing important to you." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "I was willing to give myself to you for eternity, but it was never enough... You have lost, Florice."

"Mother! Join us for dinner!" Izzy called from the home.

Miria turned to Florice. "It is best you leave," she hobbled into the garden, sparing him one last glance, "goodbye, Florice." He felt her hand slip from his, finally letting her go, calling her name weakly one last time.

She was still beautiful to him. He still wanted her. He still needed her. But... perhaps she was right. He never deserved her. "I love you, Miria..." he called, watching her smile weakly at him before speaking:

"You shouldn't."

And so, he watched the garden every day. Hiding from sight, watching Miria smile at the children. Watching her find movement harder, watching her lose her memory... Isabeau's face full of worry. And one day, she stopped appearing all together. Florice waited, pacing nervously, but the sound of the family emerging startled him into hiding.

He followed them on foot, arriving amongst a sea of gravestones, waiting patiently for them all to leave before he hurried to where they had stood. Collapsing to his knees as he stared at the tomb stone. 'Miria Smith, A mother, A grandmother, a Fighter.'

He swallowed thickly, blinking rapidly. He held the tomb desperately, collapsing to his knees and letting his mask fall to the floor with himself. He knew the day was coming, it always would be coming without his serum, and yet it took him by surprise.

The words would not come, even when he had so much to say. All he had was memories of her face smiling at him. Breathing shallow breaths, the tears flowing down his face, lips parted as he tried to find something to say. The soft rumble of thunder overhead making him look up, blinking as a few drops of rain hit his face. 

"My... Miria..."

He let himself sob openly, blinking hard to rid himself of tears. "All in one day, the world has come... and taken you away..." he smiled through his agony, "I remember everything you said... how you could never trust me... but you will always.. were and will be... my hero... my love..."

His forehead met the ground, crying louder. "I wish I could say I disagree, but I know I am the one to blame... I destroyed every hope, we once had." He hugged the stone desperately, "nothing left now for me to do... now you are gone... no way to have you back..."

"Are you happy, at last?" He sobbed.

"Florice..."

The doctor looked up, seeing the vision of his beloved wife smiling at him, offering him her hands. But, blinking the tears away proved she was not standing there before himself. He clenched his fists, realising that everyone around himself would cherish the memories of Miria... whilst he was eternally haunted by them instead. Realising now, when it is too late, how wrong he had been... would not bring her back.

And so, he rest himself beside the tomb... and there he stayed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i absolutely bawled my fucking eyeballs out writing this. Literally could not see straight through half of it.


End file.
